


Knight takes King

by courgette96



Series: Promotion of pawn [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Chess games, Deal with a Devil, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 18:12:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2661575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courgette96/pseuds/courgette96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is just a simple game. He has played it thousands of times before. He has practiced over and over again, until he became a master at it.</p>
<p>It is a simple game, but failure is not an option.</p>
<p>Not when all of Asgard is at stake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knight takes King

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is a plot bunny that wouldn't go away. I thought of putting it up on the kinkmeme, but then I realized I was probably going to write it anyway. So here it is.  
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Thor. Thor is the property of Marvel, and is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

 His fingers are bleeding.

 He has rubbed them raw, trying to still his trembling hand by clutching the chess pieces. Red blood contrasts sharply against white tips, the natural paleness of his skin exacerbated by the strength he puts in holding his bishop.

 It would probably have broken under the pressure, Loki muses distantly, had it not been enchanted as it was.

 His fingers are bleeding, but a little blood meant nothing in this game they play. It is but a battle wound in a war reduced to a chess board. He would bleed a thousand times if it meant escaping from this.

 But he can’t, he knows that. This is his bargain, his own challenge. He can do nothing but play on.

 And so, trying (failing) to hide his trembling, he makes his move.

“Bishop to D6”, he states, looking at his lap.

 He cannot bring himself to look at his opponent (man? Woman? He doesn’t know, doesn’t care to know). He needs to stay calm, he needs to be focused (he needs to win!).

 He will go mad if he looks upon that face for too long; the creature in front of him is far too ancient, far too… other.

 His adversary knows this, and chuckles.

 

_Thor wants to leave on an adventure. “My last as prince, brother! Surely, you would not deny me this!” he says with a smile._

_He shouldn’t have to, Loki thinks. You are to be king, you cannot leave as you please. You still have so much to learn, too much to waste time on quests. No one is ever ready for kingship, but you must try to be!_

_But Loki doesn’t say all of this. It would be pointless, he knows, he would only receive his brother’s scorn for his trouble._

_He loves his brother, and he selfishly cannot bear not to be loved back. And so he replies with a smile “As if I would let my brother leave alone!”_

 Perhaps this is his fault, he thinks. If he had been more open, had spoken his mind instead of scheming in the privacy of his room, this could have been avoided.

 But it doesn’t matter now, all he can do is play. His opponent laughs.

“An interesting move, my prince” she says (he settles on “she”, for she looks most like a woman). He wishes she wouldn’t talk. Her voice is unpleasant to hear. It is discordant, high and low sounds mingling in ways that instinctively disturb him. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Bragi flinch, the musician in him recoiling at such a sound.

 “Interesting, as it leaves me able to take your rook.” She continues. “An oversight, perhaps?” she says viciously. “Bishop to G1”

 The creature never touches the piece. Instead, the bishop glides slowly towards the rook Loki has left defenseless.

 

  _“There is mention of a witch in the mountains of Nornheim” Thor booms. “A wicked being it would seem, as she strikes fear in the heart of all who mention her. I would see the realms rid of such a foul creature!”_

_“And it shall be so!” Fandral replies, all smiles and confident swagger. “Surely, she will not be able to resist our combined might!”_

_“It is just as well that you come with us, Loki.” Sif tells him. “Perhaps your magic will be of some use if she resorts to using seidr.”_

_It is an unintentional insult, he knows. She has spent so much time trying to prove her worth as a warrior that she has difficulty seeing beyond the strength of her sword and shield. He knows she has been grateful for his talents of multiple occasions, for all that she lamented his underhanded ways._

_The insinuation of his uselessness hurts none the less, all though he hides it behind a sly smile. “Why, my Lady, I believe I may be more qualified than all of you when it comes to this quest.” He sighs exaggeratedly. “Oh, I hope I will be able to find you something to do when the time comes. It wouldn’t do for you grow restless, my Lady, Yggdrasil would fall from your pacing!”_

_Thor laughs at that. “Enough of this, my friends. Let us depart!” He starts walking, and they, as always, follow._

 

 

 The witch’s bishop comes face to face with his rook. It moves then, small stone hands moving the sword they hold, and his one fell swoop, his piece in impaled on the miniature weapon. He has seen such things before, when the Lady Sif stabbed straight through her enemies during battle.

 Loki flinches as the rook tips over and falls to the ground. It is of no consequence to him, but the reminder of what may happen still fills him with dread.

 Behind him, his mother moans.

 

 

_“There are additional rules to this game, my Lord” the creature states as she conjures_ _the board. “A price, of some sorts.”_

_Of course there are, he thinks. The witch holds all the cards, she can do as she pleases. Her sense of whimsy may have led her to accept the bargain, but he would be a fool to think it would be a straight-forward game._

_“You will be both player and chess piece. Fitting, isn’t it?” she continues. “If this is to be a battle, then you must be willing to fight to the death. Like a true warrior of Asgard.” She places the queen in his hand. “This is you, Loki Odinson. Its hurt is your hurt. Make sure I do not reap you.” The smile she gives him is sickly sweet._

_“And you?” he asks to distract himself. “What piece would you be?”_

_“Why, none of course!” She says with a laugh. “You would never be able to harm me boy. Not even if you put everything you had into it. Why should I give you the chance?” She looks at him (and he has to look away for he cannot stand staring into those eyes). “You chose to defy me, boy. You may very well die trying”._

 He plays black, of course he does.  It is who he is, the dark prince, the shadow behind the golden heir. It is all he could ever be. He had been jealous once, but that time seemed so far away now. It is difficult to remember a time when those things mattered.

 He had been envious of his brother’s glory, of his strength in battle, even though he knew his own worth. However, he has long ago resigned himself to the knowledge that Thor would be the hero of every song.  It had been reassuring, in a way. He knew who would be the one to save him in his time of need.

 Even now, when he is the sole fighter in this war, the sole defender of hopeless, miserable Asgard, he cannot help but look at his brother, willing him to help, to slay the monster one more time.

 Thor cannot do anything though, they both know that. For the first time since they can remember, Mjölnir lays limply at his side. His brother is crying, freely and openly. It doesn’t suit him; he should never be anything but joyous and warm.

 Loki knows his dearest sibling yearns to walk up and smash the board, to crush wood and stone until nothing but dust remains. It wouldn’t help, though. The creature would merely laugh it off and kill them all. All it would do is spare Loki the chance to die at the demon’s hands.

 Perhaps it would be a blessing.

 Loki stares at the black queen. It looks innocuous enough, yet he can feel life pulsing within the small stone statue. His own life.

 He forces himself to ignore it as he takes another piece into his hand.

 “Pawn to E5” he states.

 Behind him, Odin stiffens.

 

 

_They arrive at the witch’s lair easily enough. This should have alerted them. What kind of being takes no precautions into defending its home?_

_The kind that has nothing to fear._

_They all come face to face with her. The room is warm, with a large blue rug on the floor and a small fire burning in a stone fireplace. The walls ae covered in bookshelves. She is sitting a large red chair, a pile of books lying on the small table next to her. In the corner, a chessboard stands with an unfinished game on top of it._

_She turns towards them, and Loki immediately recoils._

_This is no witch. This is no Aesir, or elf, or anything they have seen before. He knows this, can see power and darkness behind those eyes, can feel his seidr forming an instinctual protective spell around him._

_As if it would do any good._

_They cannot fight this. It would be suicide, and Loki enjoys living way too much to allow that. He looks at his companions, to compel them to leave, and is shocked to find them unmoved._

_They cannot see, he thinks. No man could face what is in front of them now and feel no fear. Those warrior folks do not use seidr, though, and so they are blinded by the illusion of a woman in front of them. They do not see what he sees, and so Thor speaks up._

_“Foul beast”, he states, “you have brought terror to these realms. I have come to put an end to that!”_

_She laughs at that. “They are wise to fear me, my boy! Wiser still to be thankful that I do not leave my lair.” She chuckles once more. “You are a fool, and that may save you yet. Run along, while I still allow it.”_

_Thor growls. “This boy had grown tired of your mockery! You will…”_

_“We thank you for your most generous offer!” Loki cuts him off. “We will leave now. Thank you, for your hospitality.” He bows._

_“A respectful young man. I quite like it.” She waves her hand. “You are cleverer than the rest of them. I’ll remember that. You may go”_

_Loki doesn’t want to be remembered at all, but he will not say that. Instead, he works at escorting the warrior four out of there, ignoring their incredulous looks. He will explain later on, for now the must leave!_

_Unfortunately, he hasn’t kept an eye on Thor, and his rash brother howls at the insult. He throws Mjölnir at the witch, and all Loki can do is whisper a quiet “No” as the hammer flies towards the creature._

_It bounces off, pathetically, and rolls on to the ground._

_Thor stares in choc, although he call his hammer back on reflex. The demon stands up, the warriors around him draw their weapons. They will fight, they will fight and they will die, and no, no, this cannot happen…_

_Before anyone can move any more, Loki calls upon all of his seidr and magically grabs onto each and every one of his companions. Then, with all the energy and speed he can muster, he pulls them away, takes them through the cracks between realms. He wanted to keep them secret, needed them in order to stall Thor’s coronation, but there is no other way. He needs to save their lives._

_The six of them fall on the grass. The tumble down a hill, Asgard’s castle shining in the distance. When he gets up, he finds them all staring at him with a mixture of surprise and disdain._

 They only looks lost now, his brother’s friends. (Not his, never his)

 They do not understand this kind of game, few in Asgard do. There is no wrestling to be found here, no strategies that can be applied to the battlefield.

 And so, when his opponent moves to destroy his second rook, they stiffen and see defeat. Loki’s pieces are getting chopped off one after the other, while the witch still has an almost complete army. They see the strength in numbers, and find Loki lacking.

 Except Loki has played this game many times before. He has played against his tutors, against fellow intellectuals and, when he found himself lacking a worthy opponent, against himself. He has pondered strategies and moves for hours on end, and that gives him the confidence to continue to play. He puts his hand on his knight, and this time it’s his father he can hear moaning behind him.

 Of course, the All-father would understand. It had been him that had introduced Loki to this game, all those years ago. A boy at the time, he had been thoroughly crushed by Odin, who was a ruthless player even against his own son. Still, all he has are fond memories of that night.

 “A fine effort for a first try!” his father had declared, smiling. “You may very well be able to defeat me one day!”

 They had never played again, but Loki had continued anyway, hopping for a future game with his father. He will never have it after all, it seems.

 He turns around to smile at his parents, wishing so hard to tell them all the words he left unsaid. A smile will have to do, though. His father meets his eyes, and nods, tears shining in his eyes.

 It is enough. It is more than he could ever have hoped for.

 “Knight to G7!” he says, with more confidence than ever before.

 

 

_Thor’s coronation is nearly done, now. All Odin needs to do is speak the words, and Thor will be king. His brother has forgiven him for his actions, although he has scolded him for not telling him of his secret ways between worlds._

_Loki closes his eyes. He hasn’t been able to find another way to delay the coronation, and so it will go as planned. He isn’t sorry about his actions, no matter what Thor may think. (He has saved them, they don’t know it, but he has. They would have died, pathetically so, and that creature would have resumed its reading. It would have been pointless. All of it)_

_He looks down to see the Lady Sif staring at him, as if daring him to do anything. After all this time, she still doesn’t know he has no desire for a throne. It doesn’t matter though, he knows her opinion of him will never change._

_Odin speaks up. “Then on this day, I, Odin All-father, proclaim you…”_

_However, before he can finish, a swirl of black mist forms in the middle of the room. His heads snaps towards it, and no, no, nonononono, NO!_

_“Greetings, All-father” the witch says mockingly. “I owe your son a debt”_

_And before they can move, swords rust and armors crumble. The Einherjar fall to the ground, pushed down by an invisible force. Dark blades appear out of thin air to stab at the people nearest to the demon. The whole of the room is paralyzed as the creature stalks towards his brother. “I owe you retribution, Prince. You wish to take my life? I will claim yours and all the others in your pathetic realm!”_

_There she stands, eyes black, seidr pulsing around her. No one doubts her ability to keep her promise._

 The creature’s breath falters. She sees the endgame, then. It doesn’t matter, not really, but it is a great satisfaction to see its mocking expression morph into shock.

 It should have been obvious, Loki thinks. All he has done, every single thing, has been for Asgard. For his family, for his brother. He has given everything, has dedicated his whole life to them. It showed in the game they are playing.

 It made sense for him to sacrifice all those pieces, just as it made sense for his opponent to destroy all the ones that stood in its way. It is how they have lived their lives. Loki has been mocked for his weakness, for his underhanded ways, but has carried on with them despite all the blows he has received.

This penultimate move of his was just the culmination of all his choices. Did the witch really believe that when the time came, he would hesitate?

 Victory is near, and despite the circumstances, he feels giddy. He looks at her and smiles. She sneers back, and it is another satisfaction he will claim before the end.

 Slowly, he lifts the black queen from her position. It was always going to come to this. The queen can go anywhere, do as she pleases. She could run to safety on the other side of the board, leave those other pieces to their fate. Instead, she marches towards her death for the sake of the king.

 For the sake of Asgard.

 Loki too had the chance flee. Instead, he plays.

 

_“You have been respectful, Prince, and I appreciate that.” The witch whispers to him. “You could walk away from this. Leave this realm, leave this court, and I will not follow you. Does it not appeal to you?”_

_He swallows, trying to ignore the suspicious stares. It appeals to him immensely. He doesn’t want to die, has still so much to do. He wants no part in this. But…_

_“I would rather a chance to save them all”. The words fall out before he can think them through._

_The creature stares at him, then laughs. “If you so wish, my boy. It is a fine request. I know just the way for it!”_

_He can’t hear the murmurs in the room over the sound of his beating heart._

“No, Loki!” Frigga whispers. His sweet mother, can’t she see there is no other way?

 He turns one last time to smile at her. This is fine, it is all fine. He will win, and Asgard will be saved. This is good news, this is a time of victory. He sees Father, who stares at him evenly. His eyes are shining, but he keeps his composure like the king he is.

 Loki looks around the room, at those hundreds of faces that came for the celebration. He looks at Volstagg, whose ever present cheer has long since vanished. Leaning on his shoulder is Fandral, eyes closed, slightly wounded during the witch’s arrival. Next to them stands Hogun, even grimmer than before if it were at all possible. Sif is looking at him as if she had never seen him before.

 And Thor, foolish, dearest Thor, is reaching out towards him, tears streaming down his face, mouthing desperate sentences. I’m sorry. Please don’t do this, Bother, please.  Loki pays them no heed. He looks into his brother’s eyes and presses his fist to his heart.

 For all he had wanted to delay the coronation, he had always hopped to see his brother as a worthy king. He never will now, but he can still salute the Thor that will be.

 Thor chocks on a sob at this, but puts his hand down.

 Smiling still, Loki turns back towards the board.

 

 

_As they are walking back towards the castle, Sif turns to him. “I thought you many things, but not a coward” she spits to him._

 Would a coward do this? Would a coward stare a demon into the eyes as he speaks the words of his death? Loki doubts it.

 He knows who he is. He knows what he must do.

“Queen to F6.” He whispers.

 Barely a second later, the opposing bishop pierces the black queen with its spear.

 

 

_“You are my brother and my friend. I may be envious, at times, but never doubt that I love you.”_

 It hurts, everything hurts. His chest is on fire, his mind is blank with pain. Someone is screaming. It may be him, but he cannot be sure.

 It hurts, it hurts, but he must finish the game. He is crying, tears burning hot as he reaches for his knight.

 Dimly, he laughs. It is the knight that will win this war after all. The brave knight, the brave lord. The brave Thor.

 Is it not Thor there in his hands, ready to slay the monster? Is it not Thor who saves them all?

 It is as it should be, he thinks. It is as it’s always been. He loves Thor all the more for it.

 He is leaning hard against the table, as he all but lets his arm fall one last time.

“Knight to E7” he forces out. Blood spills out of his mouth. “Checkmate.”

 He laughs then. He has done it, they are safe. He has won, he has defeated her, he…

 He cannot stand anymore.

 Distantly he hears the chair fall as he crashes to the ground. People are running around him, black mist swirls once more as the witch leaves. He doesn’t care, not really. The ground is uncomfortable, which is unfortunate as he is starting to feel tired. He should probably move, come to think of it. What if someone trips on him?

He is cold, so cold, even though the blood staining his chest is warm. He thinks of the blood that stains the tip of his fingers. The puddle forming around him rather puts it to shame, doesn't it?

People are yelling, calling for Eir, he thinks. They are being rather noisy, can’t they just let him rest for a while? He doesn’t even mind the hard floor, he is just so tired…

Suddenly he is lifted into a soft, warm embrace. He looks up, confused, before relaxing. This hasn't happened in a while, he thinks, amused, he rather missed it.

Father is holding him in his arms, clutching him to his chest. His arms are strong as they rock him, and Loki sighs contently. This feels nice, feels like home and his childhood. Distantly, Loki thinks of goodnight hugs and late night games; he snuggles into the embrace.

Around them are Thor and Mother, both crying as well. They shouldn't really, he has won, hasn't he? Everything is going to be alright, won’t it?

He needs to tell them this, he thinks. With the last of his strength, he reaches towards his father’s face.

“I did it Father.” He whispers, “For Asgard, for all of us…”

For you.

Father sobs. “Yes, Loki.”

He knows, then. That’s good. That’s perfect.

He closes his eyes as Father kisses his brow.

He can sleep, now.

**Author's Note:**

> If any of you are concerned, I haven't put In winter's care on the back burner. In fact, the new chapter is almost done.
> 
> The moves described here are taken from an actual game. It is known as "the Immortal Game", no joke. You can read more about it here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Immortal_Game
> 
> Anyway, I may write more of this is ever there is any interest, so let me know!


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